


Ficlets from comment-fic

by Renart



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Highlander: The Series, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Birthday Presents, Cliche, Comment Fic, Crossover, Dealfic, F/F, F/M, Fallen Angels, Ficlet, Gabriel does things, Gen, Godstiel: Cas as God, M/M, Vessel Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renart/pseuds/Renart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See title, just my fills all in one place for prompts there. All SPN, but there is random x-over or two. For some reason most of fills have Lucifer or Gabriel. Currently in the process of reposting beted bits. Real update - soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's not my name, not anymore (Methos, Lucifer)

**Author's Note:**

> Now with beta. People say hello to **cynassa**. :)  
>  It's still work in progreess. But first 2 bits - done.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally posted http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/320762.html?thread=57565434#t57565434, tigriswolf prompt: "Supernatural/Highlander, Lucifer&Methos, Lucifer wants a word with his brother. Methos doesn't care."

His name isn’t Adam or Ben or Carl or any of the other names mortals and immortals have known him by in the last millennia or five. His name isn’t even Methos, which should be quite obvious. His real name, the one his Father gave him, the one he cherishes with pride and shame is myth too, but myth so old that no one would even believe him where he to share that particular secret with anybody. Not that he trusts anyone enough to do that. Moot point and water under the bridge.

Still, the name exists and he remembers.

He is Malak al-Maut. Maybe “was” is a better term.

Every hundred years or so he makes a journey to Wulingyuan and mingling with mortals visits Tianzishan. He is not here for a picturesque view or a postcard. He climbs the mountain and walks its paths and waits for a sunrise on the top of one of the platforms because Tianzi is the closest place to home he will ever find on Earth. Not Egypt, where he made his first breath of scalding- hot air all those thousands of years ago, not Western Europe with its cities, not the New World he favors as of late.

He inhales crisp autumn air and dreams among the beauty of ailing nature about days long gone, days of Glory and Purpose and allows himself just for a fleeting moment to thinks that today would be the day he reclaims the power pulsing under his feet. That today would be the day he would leave the Game behind. He knows it won’t be, like it wasn’t last century or that day all those thousands of years ago he remembered and found his torn Grace bound to a pillar. But still the tantalizing possibility is there and there are days when it’s all that’s keeping him from doing something foolish.

One moment he is alone with his thoughts and doubts and hopes and then – he is not.

There is a being trying to look like a white man in his thirties.

 -Azrael,- it greets him

\- That’s not my name.

\- Of course it is.

\- Then I can call you Samael?

\- If you want, brother.

\- Well, then I guess I’ll just call you Lucy. Less formal, you know.

\- I missed you.

\- You miss an archangel’s sword at your side, Lucy dear, not me. Please, do not confuse us in the future.

\- That’s not true, - says his guest, sounding genuinely hurt.

\- Then you didn’t come here, at the repository of my Grace, to offer me opportunity of a lifetime to join you forces in another great war against Heaven?

\- I’m touched, really. I can even cry if you want or compose an insufferable hymn about our tragic brotherly bond, if it will make you feel better. But my answer will be still “no”.

\- It was a “yes” once.

\- And then I killed my brothers and sisters for you, I fell from Heaven for you, I was condemned and became this… I learned from my mistake, snake.

\- But you can reclaim all that.

\- You really do not understand, do you?

\- Azrael…

\- My name is Adam. And I don’t care, not anymore.

The blond man sighs wearily and disappears.

 


	2. No (Dean, Crowley and Cas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/321055.html?thread=57617695#t57617695, garnet_words prompt "Supernatural, Dean & any, the crossroads demon says no in AHBL 2."

No.

Fucking crossroads demon said no.

Dean on his knees promised his soul right the fuck now to the smug looking bastard, but the answer didn’t change.

No.

\- Believe me, pretty boy, it’s for your own good.

\- I don’t care…

\- Of course you don’t, it’s all Sam, Sam, Sam.

\- Listen, you black eyed piece of shit…

\- Yellow actually. Being at the top of the food chain has its own perks. But do continue.

\- If you won’t make a deal with me, I will hunt every last demon that dared to crawl out of Hell, I will…

\- I’m sure you will, Winchester. You are just like your father, after all. By the way, daddy says hi.

\- Don’t taunt him, Crowley, - said a new voice from behind them. Dean looked around and saw an average guy in a rumpled suit and trench coat. The new demon smiled smugly and then stepped closer to Dean.

\- Look who showed his face at least. Double crossing me again, darling?

\- I was praying for revelation, - he answered off-handedly, stepping even closer and Dean started to think that maybe this one, with his hungry eyes and creepy stalker attitude, will make the deal.

\- Whatever. Get your teary-eyed prom date out of here, before our future ex-management notices the script has changed. I will check on things downstairs.

\- I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not going anywhere with you!

The first demon lifted his hands in dismay:

\- All yours, I’m out of here.

The second demon was now alone with Dean. He cocked his head to the side, measured Dean up with a strange glance and sighed.

\- Hello, Dean.


	3. B-day (Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Crowley, Sam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/282522.html?thread=53595546#t53595546 - prompt by metallikirk. "Dean has a dilemma - finding the perfect gift to buy Godstiel for his birthday."

Nearly a year passed since Cas declared himself New God and strangely the world was still standing and what was even more strange – it seemed to be healing after all end of the world crap that hit the fan in last years. So Dean eventually had to suck it up and allow Cas back into his life. When next May came Dean started to catch himself on the thought that soon it will be Castiel birthday, sort of, and he would really need to give him something. And that’s where he hit a wall. Because what the hell one gives ex-angel, ex-human mutant deity for his B-day? Dean honestly didn’t have idea worth a dime, so he decided to seek help.

Dean would be hard-pressed to tell why his first choice of advice was freaking King of Hell, but still here he was: summoning ritual, demon trap – all in place. And mildly amused demon with glass of scotch.

\- Sorry, darling, what?

\- What do I get Cas for his birthday?

\- How about Dean Winchester in a nude with big bloody bow around important parts?

\- Crowley! – growled Dean.

\- What? You asked for my advice, I gave you one. And, pretty mouth, it you ever summon me again for such rubbish I will skin you alive, our lord in heaven favorite boy-toy or not.

\- Been there, done that.

\- Care for a repeat?

\- Oh… just go to hell.

\- Gladly. Cheers!

His second choice was newly resurrected Gabriel. Guy was a colossal asshole, but he got style and was Castile brother.

\- Dean-o, my second favorite human-in-law.

\- There is no such word.

\- I’m pretty sure word of God trumps dictionary.

\- Whatever. Look, it’s kind of his birthday and I thought…

\- Don’t say a word. I’m on it! How about stripper in a cake?

\- Cas’s birthday, not yours.

\- You will be the stripper?

Dean sighed and started to draw banishing sigil.

His third choice would have been usually his first, but Sam lately was more weird than usual.

\- I mean he is freaking God, what can you get him for birthday that he already doesn’t have?

\- Exactly.

\- Man, that’s weird.

\- Tell me about it.

\- You know, you could go old school?

\- Meaning?

\- Altar, sacrifices, all very Old Testament, you know.

\- You really think it’s a good idea?

Sam shrugged and slurped his smoothie.

\- Lucifer does.

\- Freaking brilliant. 

His fourth choice was Chuck, because man was a prophet, meaning he knew shit that was only going to happen in Dean’s life. But he was nowhere to be found and all advice Dean got was couple of nervous lines on answering machine: “Dean, hi. If it’s you, I mean. Just… love is an answer, man. Love is an answer. Good luck.”

After that Dean started to seriously contemplate buying his semi-friendly neighborhood deity a tie or something equally lame, because no way he was following advice of any those perverts. Also they were wrong, they weren’t like this. There were just Dean and Cas. Friends, sort of.

\- Dean?

\- Personal space, dude!

\- My apologies, but I had impression you where prying for my guidance.

\- I wasn’t praying, Cas. I don’t pray, remember? – But before Dean could drive himself into a corner, Castiel looked at him strangely and frowned:

\- Dean why would I wish for you to sit inside a cake with a red ribbon around you manhood?

\- No reason at all, Cas.

\- Also please inform your brother and Lucifer that I don’t require sacrifices.

\- Right. No sacrifices. Check.

\- I’ll be going, Dean.

\- Yeah. See you, later.

\- But I wouldn’t say no to a beer and a burger, - said Castiel and disappeared.

Dean smiled. That… that he could do.


	4. Oops! (Gabriel, Sam, Dean, Lucifer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from mangacrack: "Sam/Gabriel, mixing demon and angel blood has side effects, but Gabriel prefers interesting creatures over boring humans anyway."  
>  http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/250776.html?thread=50188952#t50188952

Gabriel is pretty sure that it’s all his fault, not that he will ever admit it, but in the off chance that daddy dearest will ever make a comeback he is fully prepared to include that into his “what did you miss/to confess” list, somewhere after “So how do you like being granddad to eight legged flying horse?”, but before “Tunguska? What about it?” Also how he was supposed to know that kinky sex with recovering blood-junkie could lead to this? Furthermore, he got the noblest of intentions in his borrowed heart at the time. Stir little Sammy Winchester clear from demon whores, fuck up Heaven and Hell plans to kick start Armageddon. And because no one would be saying “thank you, Gabriel” he decided to thank himself with said kinky sex. Not that kinky part was obligatory, he likes vanilla just as much as any other fallen angel. Kinky was totally on little Sammy Winchester, not that he was all that little or Gabriel had any objection, but they at least should share a blame, all thing considered.

Besides Lucy was totally the one to blame in the whole mess, because if that little bastard didn’t stalk Sammy, waiting for the perfect moment to jump poor boy’s bones… He practically asked for it, didn’t he?

Dean too. Gabriel frowns. Well, maybe not Dean, not this time. Thinking about it, nope, totally Dean’s fault. He agreed with Gabriel’s live reenactment of Lord of the Rings, didn’t he?

Anyway, water under the bridge and all that. Also looking at the bright side: Gabriel was pretty sure it stopped the whole Apocalypse nonsense quite nicely. Maaaybe. Gabriel coughs pointedly.

\- Awkward, - he says into uncomfortable silence that descended at the room and pretends to ignore a murderous glance that Lucifer threw his way.

\- Hey! That not my fault! Innocent observer me!

Lucifer frown deepens.

 

\- That wasn’t supposed to happen, - devil said carefully, wound feeling just leaking from every word. Yes, Lucy was totally a wet blanket in the family.

\- No shit, Sherlock.

\- What exactly… 

\- Shush, Dean! – Gabriel orders bristly, backing up his point with old slam them into nearest wall, tape over the mouth trick. - Grownups are talking. Sam, come here and for dad’s sake don’t touch anything! And while you are at it don’t breath and don’t think. Kapishe?

\- Gabriel, what..?

\- Relax, you will be fine.

\- I don’t feel fine, - he growls and ground shakes, just a bit.

Kids these days – growing up so quickly.

\- Yeeeah, I was exaggerating. But chances of you beating the dust are slimmer than usual. And what are you looking at, Lucy?

\- He is beautiful.

\- Of course he is, he is covered in pieces of chewed Grace, his left top wings are a bloody mess and he got your feathers. Huh.

\- Gabriel! What happened? I said yes, and then there was this light and…

Archangel looks wildly around: Dean Winchester still fixed to the wall, Sam confused and working himself up to smiting the shit out of something and devil on the verge of revelation.

\- Eh, Lucy? Typical, no help as usual? – complains Gabriel, but really he doesn’t blame his big brother much, because when he first became a father. And by father he meant mother of eight leg horse, there might have been fainting or two. So stunned silence wasn’t so bad. - Well basically, and really I’m flying here by the seat of my pants, buuuut it looks like you either nephelim now or archangel. Or both.

\- Gabriel!

\- On the bright side our illicit affair is no longer blasphemous interspecies flick, but just a good old incest. Don’t you feel better? I do.


	5. It's all about control (Sam, Dean, Hallucifer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/320408.html?thread=57535128#t57535128  
> prompt by mangacrack: "Sam/Lucifer, Sam is hurt, heavily drugged and hallucinating. How does it affect Lucifer?"

Dean knew that somehow they will make it, because a couple of crazy witches couldn’t get one on them, not after Armageddon and Heaven Civil War and Eve, and certainly not before Dean could shove it to Dick Roman. But still situation was worse than usual level of fuck upped. Helplessly Dean tried to tug again on the ropes that those bitches bound him with, but still no luck. But of course a sight of Sammy bleeding on some dirty floor was a motivation enough for Dean Winchester not to notice his own wounds and throbbing head.

\- Sam!

\- Noooo..., – he groaned and Dean’s heart broke a bit more and he doubled his efforts to free himself.

\- No, - moaned Sam again weakly. - I don’t like them, - he added, voice stronger and sharper and for a second Dean couldn’t recognize his own brother in that casual remark.

\- Sam? – he called, his left hand almost free. Almost. He threw a quick glance at witches brewing whatever they were concocting in the far corner of the barn.

\- Go away, - pleaded Sam and that voice wrecked Dean all over again. - Sam, Sam, Sam…, - continued his brother and Dean started to freak out, because that? Wasn’t normal. - Haven’t you learned anything? – mocked Sam somebody and after a brief pause as if waiting for answer concluded: – And we were making such a good progress.

\- Sam, what the hell?

\- No, but seriously I really don’t like those witches, - said Sam not hearing Dean at all and curled further into himself. - They touched what is mine, Sam, - he continued, voice strong and cold, soon followed by a weak whimper. - Nothing you can do, - he reasoned with himself voice again brittle and frightened and Dean felt cold crippling to his hear.

\- Sam, snap out of it. Sam! Come on!

\- Well, that’s where you are wrong, - said conversationally his little brother and in a bright horrifying moment of clarity Dean remembered where he heard this cold calculating patronizing intonation. Not daring to believe in what he was seeing Dean still confused watched as Sam raised his right hand, not bothered by twisted wrist, and snapped his fingers. Half a second later all that was left from two witches where a couple of bloody spots.

\- Son of a bitch.

Sam rolled over and moving his smashed lips smiled wildly:

\- Hello, Dean.


	6. Stray dog with amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I actually forgot what prompt it was... m-mm... something about 11th Doctor meeting Cas who lost his memories post-s7e2 for SPN?  
> and yes, it is x-over with Doctor Who, obviously.

\- And who is handsome, dark and brooding?

\- I don’t know, - cheerfully replied Doctor, putting his bowtie straight. – And when I say that I don’t know, I mean he doesn’t know.

\- So now you don’t just drug strays dogs home, but amnesiac puppies too.

\- I’m not a dog, - said the man before content to sit quietly in the corner of the console room.

\- Of course you aren’t, dear. Doctor, at least, tell where did you pick him up?

\- Earth, early 21 century. Ish.

\- Ish as in…?

\- Parallel universe? Just around the corner. And River, this is my ship and I can bring on board whoever I want.

\- Of course you can, sweetie. Well, at least he is cute.


	7. Playing with big brother toys (John, Gabriel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural, John/Gabriel, wee!chesters, Gabriel decides they'll write their own destiny (http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/322208.html?thread=57709216#t57709216)  
> A/N: no particular warnings, but there is Gabriel being Gabriel. Also sorry, but wee!chesters only mentioned, I tried, but… ;(

They meet in a dream. And ten years ago John would have said that it’s line from cheeky trash novel that Mary denies that she likes to read from time to time. But Mary is long dead and life taught him since then: meeting in a dream is not a cheese line.

John is seating on the bank of river and his boys are just behind thick bushes, he can hear Sam’s laugh.

\- Noisy brats, eh?

\- Yes.

And because it’s a dream there is nothing strange about glowing anthropomorphic figure that decided to seat beside him.

\- Candy?

\- No.

They don’t talk about much else and in the end his guest convinces him to try couple of M&M’s. He still feels chocolate on his tongue, when he wakes up in a motel room and that’s when John knows that this wasn’t an ordinary dream. By next night he carved protective amulet and there is blessed herbs under his pillow and dream catcher above his bed.

Doesn’t do the trick at all. Glowing figure greets him with lazy wave of biggest candyfloos John had ever seen.

\- Hello, John.

\- Who the hell are you?

\- Ah, smart boys. Well let’s pretend that your life is a script that big sharks from Hollywood picked up for they future blockbuster. There are going to be mind-blowing special effects, pretty actors and a bunch of sequels. But the thing is at the end – everyone die. You, your precious little boys and a billion or two statists.

\- Are you threatening me?

\- Who, me? Pleeee-ase, I’m just a guy who cares. Let’s say independent director. And I’m willing to pick up your script, but ending… really I’m a sap for happy endings. Everyone lives, you know? Hero kisses the girl, credits roll. So I really, really want to work with you, John, but the script has to go.

By the end of the speech his visitor practically lies on the hood of the Impala and John has pretty hard time convincing himself that it’s not just some pretty weird dream after too much alcohol and too little rest.

\- You are serious.

\- As a camel, and I got to say those guys don’t have a drop of humor. Boring.

\- Yeah and all I got to do will be what exactly? Sell my soul maybe?

\- And I need that shiny thing what for exactly? No, I mean it’s pretty. But I’ll pass. What I need, John, is your cooperation. Because see, there is this cool guy with phenomenal super powers, we are talking cosmic level here. You might have heard about him. Gabriel. Yes? No?

\- Gabriel who?

\- Oh, come on. The one with chicken wings!

\- The Archangel Gabriel. You are telling me that angels, that God is…

\- Yep. All real! And before you ask, no bigfoot out there. Yeah, I know, it’s a downer.

\- Back to Gabriel. He can help me? He can find the bastard who killed Mary? He can…

\- Yes, yes, yes. Check all the boxes on your “Quest of John Winchester” list. But see, archangel, they can’t walk Earth just like that. They true form – it’s like nuclear reactor going nuclear. Lashing it on your little planet – bad idea. But there is a way. See, they need a partnership with special humans that can withhold all that God-given Glory. And that’s where you come in. Because it just so happens you are one of those.

\- I don’t quite follow.

\- You say yes to archangel Gabriel, he descends upon you and solves all your problems.

\- …

\- Well?

\- He will save my boys, he will avenge Mary?

\- And he will save the world as bonus.

\- I… I mean how… But that’s…

\- It’s simple John. Say yes and you will walk the Earth with Archangel of Justice for a while, righting wrong and saving kittens or you say no and you wake up from this dream and return to your life. Think about it.

Before the dream dissolves, John has time to ask:

\- But who are you?

\- I’m just a messenger.

John doesn’t give answer that time or the time after that. But the knowledge that one simple yes is all that it will take, that he will have archangel as his ally – it’s mind-blowing.

It’s another night and another dream and his visitor is again there. This time slurping on bright-blue drink in a saloon that came straight from westerns. And he wears a hat. John isn’t quite sure how he pulls it off, being glow-y figure, but somehow it works.

\- My favorite hunter. Buy you a drink?

John nods and for a minute or two he keeps himself busy with imaginary beer. His glass is half empty and he is ready to give his answer.

\- Yes.

\- Say again?

\- About Gabriel. My answer is yes.

The messenger turns to him and John can swear he sees countless eyes peering at him from behind the all-consuming light that is messenger’s body.

\- Good choice, - he says leaning forward. – Good choice, Johnny-boy.

And then there are lips on his lips and fire is pouring inside him and before the dream crushes completely, John hears messenger whisper:

\- By the way, I always liked to play with my big brothers toys…


	8. I'll make my own prophet out of you and you will love me (Sam, Cas, Dean, Gabriel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural, Sam/Gabriel, Sam is an author, writing about an archangel turned pagan god  
> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/322208.html?thread=57713056#t57713056

Sam likes Gabriel. At first it was usual excitement – new book, new characters. But then suddenly half the way in Sam starts to catch himself on idle thoughs that are - frankly – quite disturbing. That’s not like Gabriel is real. None of it is real. Figments of his imagination fueled by north-European myths and biblical texts and Apocrypha. And still as days go by and file tentatively named “archangel on the lam1.doc” grows bigger Sam starts to miss time he spends apart from that little bastard and his mad adventures and once or twice Sam even contemplates an idea of breaking the forth wall to hell and including himself into the book. Because then he can do things. And that’s where the crazy lies – Sam wants to meet little bastard. Which is completely impossible, and yet… and yet… it’s madness. He is jealous when he writes that chapter with Sigyn and later Kali. And he can acknowledge that he is falling for his own character, for a string of lines on his own computer and that maybe he needs help – but he is too far gone to care.

He finishes the book on Halloween, ignoring party invitations in favor of polishing last couple of scenes and putting “THE END” at the bottom. It’s long past midnight and by morning he can sent it all to his publisher and start to forget or plan a sequel or book a ticket to India, so he could spent a month in some temple making his head clear or maybe just go on a bender. The last one starts to look real great and his second glass is nearly empty when there is whoosh and flapping of wings and there is man in a pale trench coat standing near the window. And the most strange thing is not that he just – poof! – appeared on Sam’s frayed rag. No. The maddest thing is Sam knows him. It’s Castiel, character from half-finished story he abandoned in favor of pagan archangel. His first story about angels. It was supposed to be about warrior of Lord raising a good man from Hell and something about love transcending everything. Sam feels a strange urge to apologize.

\- Sor’y.

\- Sam, what is it?

\- Eh… Castiel?

\- No matter. Hold tight.

Before Sam has a chance to say something stupid or even to lower his tumbler, two fingers descend on his forehead and the world implodes, reality collapsing into itself and leaving Sam disoriented and disgustingly sober and staring at worried man who looks too familiar.

Sam blinks. It’s Dean and Dean is… For a fleeting moment Dean is his character and suddenly he is his older brother and reality can’t just choose one over another.

Sam shakes his head.

\- Sam?! Cas, I swear, if you asshole of a brother did something to Sam, I’m gonna…

And then reality finally settles down and Sam knows this is Dean and right behind him is they friendly neighborhood angel Cas and they are real. And Sam wonders if he qualifies as a prophet now and then thinks that maybe he should stake Gabriel again, just on principle. And maybe ask him for a drink. Suddenly a giggle slips from his lips.

\- Sam?

He waves it off.

\- It’s nothing, Dean. I just realized I wrote Dean slash Castiel fanfic.

Another giggle. Maybe he should go on convention this year.

\- That’s it. I am killing your brother, Cas!

Sam feels himself scattering into laughter.


	9. No, I am your father (Dean, Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/323312.html?thread=57848304#t57848304  
> Any fandom, any hero + enemy, "No I am your father." (Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back). I went with Dean and Michael. AU of that scene at the end of "The song remains the same." Warning for implied incest.

“How did you get in my dad anyway?”

Michael frowned and shook his head.

“You think he is your father?”

“You bet I do.”

“Dean, think! You are my true vessel, perfect weapon forged across centuries. Do you really think that you..,” archangel paused and his gaze travelled where seconds ago Sam was dying. Than he continued: “… you or your brother for that matter could be mere mortals?”

“Where are you going with that?”

“When I’m done here, and you are back in a time where you belong, I’ll travel three weeks back. Should I continue or you will figure out the rest?”

“John Winchester is my father.”

“No, Dean, I’m your father.”

“No fucking way. John Winchester…”

“In body only.”

“Mum would have never…”

Michael gave him another long a bit disappointed and a bit exasperated look and Dean fell silent.

“That’s charming how you cling to your little human believes, Dean. You really still think that this woman is your mother?”

“Ok, I’ll bite. Who is my mother then?”

Michael smiled wildly.

“Mary wants to break that deal she made so badly, so desperately.”

And suddenly Dean just knew.

“That’s just sick, man.”

Michael shrugged.

“You love your brother, I love mine too.”


	10. Crossover with GO (Sam, GO!Crowley, Aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/278975.html?thread=52913855#t52913855  
> re-run from  
> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/324418.html?thread=57969218#t57969218  
> Supernatural/Good Omens, hell!Sam & or / Aziraphale/Crowley, Sam crawls out of the cage, ends up somewhere in England, is found by GO!Crowley and brought to Aziraphale for healing

The thing about interdimensional rifts is that they are bloody _nuisance_ 1. Things crawl through, make themselves at home and leave dirty footprints all over 9th century Persian carpet. Crowley hated those hitchhikers (crazy shifty bastards that they always were), but Aziraphale on the other hand found them quite interesting and refreshing.

 

\- This is Sam.

 

\- Oh dear, where did you find him?

 

Crowley twitched.

 

\- He dropped from the sky on my car!

 

Aziraphele face didn’t show any compassion for the Bentley that Crowley hoped for.

 

\- Come in then.

 

Ten minutes later both supernatural beings with keen interest observed they unexpected guest.

 

\- Who are you, people? – asked he wolfing on cheeps and fish that angel produced out of somewhere.

 

\- Crowley, - introduced himself demon.

 

\- You are not Crowley.

 

\- Pardon me?

 

\- Crowley is that dick of a crossroad demon with English accent.

 

Aziraphale blinked and started to pour tea. It didn’t look like they worlds were that different after all.

 

\- Well maybe where you came from, – he stated carefully.

 

Human blinked back.

 

\- I’m in another universe, aren’t I?

 

\- He is rather bright for an ape.

 

\- Shush. By the way, dear, you feel awfully familiar to me.

 

\- And by that he means you reek of Lucifer. You are not his kid by any chance?

 

\- No! – Sam said hurriedly, blushed and admitted reluctantly: - He kind of stalked me there for a while.

 

Crowley frowned.

 

\- He is not coming to get you, I hope?

 

\- No! No I don’t think so. He is busy.

 

\- Good. You can take a second room upstairs, dear.

 

\- He is not staying, Az.

 

\- He is family.

 

\- Sure. Abused boyfriend of our big brother from another dimension. Family.

 

\- I knew you would see it my way.

 

The smile Aziraphale sent his way was almost worth all the trouble that were surely coming they way now.

 

 

  1. Except those rare that lead to a good wine cellar. But when anyone is that lucky?2
  2. The answer is of course never, except those AA people from small town in Western Europe that one time in 1989.Which is all around unfair.




End file.
